Liathach’s Meall Dearg – Wait a Minute…

Fri 12 September 2014
As he hadn’t managed to make my Munro Compleation walk in May up Ben Lui (through no fault of his own), my friend Mark kindly offered to ‘take me up the beast that is Meall Dearg’ (aka Liathach’s Northern Pinnacles). Such a superbly generous offer couldn’t possibly be turned down so we set dates, booked time off and met up at the Ling Hut in Torridon.

Unfortunately, the walk took place a day after originally arranged as I’d had to call by the carpark where Mark was camping in his van to arrange a rest day for my shredded legs and nerves after a day doing the whole of Beinn Eighe on the Wednesday! Luckily he also had Beinn Bhan to do in the area so went to do that on the Thursday instead.

(click on photos for full size/resolution – all photos by Mark Gibson)

We met at 0900 – I’d recovered my nerves from Beinn Eighe during the Thursday but had had an extremely sleepness night of terror before this one. It wasn’t so much the narrow ridge to the summit, which I’d seen photos of from Mark’s previous visit, it was the thought of the steep gully up to the ridge – I just knew it was going to cause me problems…

We set off, thankfully in bright sunshine and calm conditions, on the great path around the back of Liathach. We chatted away – I don’t normally walk and talk (not enough puff) but, for once, I was really pleased to have my mind taken off what lay ahead… Soon, we reached the junction of paths where I’d gone around to Coire Mhic Fhearchair two days before and we briefly took the left fork to continue around Liathach. Almost immediately, just after passing a lovely lochan, we forsook the path to take off across rough country heading straight for the, as yet unseen, Coire na Caime.

After puffing uphill (well, I was puffing anyway), Meall Dearg and then the three layers of Coire na Caime came into view.

First view of Meall Dearg (right-hand peak)

Meall Dearg’s Terminal Crags

Almost the whole of the lowest corrie was taken up by a huge lochan, calm as a millpond and shining green – a lovely sight.

We had to cross the exit burn and, after one quick look at the very mossy rocks sticking out of it, I took my boots and socks off to wade it. Mark made it across on the stepping stones. I think it was crossing this burn that I cut the underneath of my foot right on the delicate skin of the instep – it’s still cut a few weeks later while I’m writing this – not an area which heals up quickly. Mark took a couple of shots of me crossing using my hands and feet and with my boots laced together and hanging around my neck (my usual method).

We then had a calming short break by the loch and a quick coffee. Then the moment came to set off up for the next two layers of corrie and the still unseen gully I’d been dreading all night. As we rose through the second layer and then started up the wall of the upper, third corrie, I was pleased to see we were gaining lots of height. This would mean that my dreaded gully was much shorter than I’d first imagined.

I’d been looking around the walls of Coire na Caime in horror at some fearsomely long and steep gullies below the Pinnacles.

At last the gully came into view – it didn’t look too bad actually – definitely didn’t look very long.

Our gully appears – on right of photo

A herd of deer passed along a grassy rake not far from us and ran above horrible looking crags on a very thin strip of grass to the summit ridge – rather them than me. Suddenly we heard rockfall – I looked around in horror imagining seeing a deer somersaulting down the crags – luckily there were just rocks which must have been dislodged by the deer’s flight. We noted the rocks continued a very long way across the corrie floor though! I have to admit I felt slightly uneasy – rockfalls usually start off my nerves.

We reached the foot of the gully and started off up – at first all seemed fine… As we needed to traverse the corrie wall away from the gully to get to the right of a pinnacle at the top of it, I soon suggested we branch off to the right and head up what looked like quite easy ground with lots of apparent hand and footholds on the bits of rock sticking out.

An interestingly-marked rock in the gully – some kind of moss or lichen?

It was one of those slopes which looked like it got less steep and much easier higher up – it didn’t. A ‘hold’ came out in my hand and, not long after, my foot slipped off another ‘hold’ – all the holds were sloping and small and all the ground was fairly loose and crumbly. I started to panic.

Soon, as we got higher up and I realised we were by now above some crag bands, I started to really flap. I was moaning and groaning and saying I was terrified and was going to fall off. Every so often I realised I wasn’t walking with Richard, who is quite used to my fuss, but with someone who wasn’t. I’d be momentarily embarrassed and apologise profusely but then I’d be straight back to panicking and flapping some more… Poor Mark!

Looking back down

My catch-phrase, which I often use for Richard, was to constantly keep saying ‘Wait a minute’ – in the end, we decided I’d be better with Mark below me and he obligingly came back down a bit to get below me.

Eventually, we reached a slight path traversing right, still on loose ground but at least I could stand up a bit – the path raked round the rest of the pinnacle to the ridge. When we reached it, I found the ridge (or at least that point of it) was a very small place indeed! I looked miserably down where we’d come up and was certain I couldn’t go back down it and that it would be too dangerous to attempt. Mark didn’t think it was too sensible either – he went off briefly to scout over the summit of the pinnacle to see if we could return back down the gully proper.

I sat and watched, clinging hard to two rocks either side of me, completely rigid with fear, hoping there would be a way but rather doubting I’d have the nerve to ascend the pinnacle to reach it. I honestly thought I’d remain up the peak until I was helicoptered off! The only comforting place I could look was, strangely, up the ridge we had to do – that didn’t look too bad from where I was sitting.

Rigid with fear!

Soon Mark came back and we set off up the ridge. There was an initial easy clamber up a few rocks and then a path appeared on the left heading quite gently uphill. The ridge was admittedly narrow but really wasn’t too bad. If my nerves hadn’t been so shredded by now, I’d have been fine I’m sure. Poor Mark had to endure quite a few more wait-a-minutes all the way to the summit.

Ridge to summit from top of pinnacle (I’m still sat rigid with fear!)

The cairn was very soon reached however and I stood briefly among the rocks for a photo. Mark asked me to take one of him – I wasn’t sure it would come out as I found my hands were shaking badly – surprisingly, it did. I was still too shaken to get my flask out but desperately needed a drink after all my panicking and begged Mark to kindly give me a sip of his water – he obliged.

We then set off back along the ridge – not before I’d noticed a ridge down the back a little further along which looked fine to descend to the corrie behind – not sure whether you’d get out of the corrie easily or not though… Due to my already shredded nerves, I’m afraid I re-descended much of our ridge on my bum – there was absolutely no need as it was perfectly safe. Not long after leaving the summit, my flask dropped out of my bag and I shouted out in horror as I thought it would go over the edge. I know that isn’t a major issue but, when I’m in a state, I panic about anything and everything. Mark came and quickly took my flask and put it in his bag so I could panic about one thing less…

Route across corrie at back to main ridge

On one of the sections of ridge where I was actually stood up, I inadvertently looked down what turned out to be a huge, sheer drop down a massive craggy face – I’d just been bending down over it to grab a handhold and ended up staring straight down it. I let out a very unappreciative grunt and hurriedly continued on my way.

Sheer section of crags from below

Very quickly, we were back on our tiny col before the pinnacle. I again sat down and sent poor Mark to re-investigate the route the other side of it. He obligingly clambered all the way up it a second time – it was basically three short sections of crag to ascend. He was stood on the top and I was sure I saw him shake his head – my heart sank – I couldn’t get down that way…

He clambered back down yet again and said I’d be fine. I asked him to describe the onward route and pointed out that, while I could almost certainly ascend the pinnacle, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to re-descend it, especially as the middle section looked loose… He described the route – I asked him a couple of times if he was sure that’s what he’d seen and whether he was sure I could get down it. He said that I’d have no problem – we both agreed I needed to get to the exact top of the gully and then I’d be descending straight down it. No matter how steep it was then, I wouldn’t be above crags and so long as I kept my feet in front of me, even if I slid, I’d be safe enough.

Northern Pinnacles from col before our pinnacle

Looking back out across Coire na Caime

Mark set off yet again up the pinnacle and I hurried up after him. There were no problems clambering up it fortunately. When I reached the top I was pleasantly surprised at the onward route – it was just as Mark had described and looked absolutely fine. There was a ramp of rocks about two or three feet wide and at hardly any angle of descent at all. Despite the ridge being perfectly safe to just walk along the top of on the smooth slabs, I’m afraid I also descended this section on my bum too.

Top of gully

The col at the top of the gully was actually very pleasant – the only vertigo-inducing bit from here was staring up at the impossibly vertical northern pinnacles up to the western summit of Liathach. As well as being vertical, you could see how loose these infamous pinnacles are – there were huge chunks just waiting to fall out of them! I had no idea how people went up that way. Luckily, all we had to do was descend our gully – from here very steep but grassy and safe. We sat for a few more minutes and I felt myself calming down quite a bit.

Mark very kindly volunteered to go down just in front to scout the best route – there were quite a few more wait-a-minutes from me as we descended (me still on my bum) but I was much happier. We descended exceedingly slowly and Mark took very good care of me and kept asking if I was okay – he’d make a great mountain guide!

Eventually we reached the foot of the gully and set off, me now walking at last, down out of the corrie levels back to our lovely loch. I resumed my post-trauma chattiness and we sat for quite a while by the loch debating all manner of things and watching fish jumping out of the loch. Mark took quite a few more photos – I’d asked him if he’d kindly be the photographer for the day as I won’t take my camera on scary routes. Even if I did, I wouldn’t take any photos anyway. He got me some superb shots as you can see throughout this post…

After a long sit in the sunshine, we then set off cross-country for the short walk back to the path junction.

Soon after that, we’d descended to the carpark where we sat longer in the sun and had cuppas and shortcake. Phew – another toughie bites the dust – I’m eternally grateful to Mark for his help and his photos! Now I only need help for Sgurr nan Forcan and Corrag Buidhe if anyone else is feeling obliging!

I thanked Mark as I left and said I’d been certain I wouldn’t make it back from the peak in one piece…

“No-one dies on my shift!” he said (he’s a nurse).

Stats: 10 miles, 3099 feet of ascent, 7 hours